


in a straight line down

by fromiftowhen



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Mixed Signals, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromiftowhen/pseuds/fromiftowhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first it's really small things that Tyler notices. </p><p>The way Jamie smiles at him, like, all the time, immediately after they meet. Or how he invites Tyler to dinner when he knows Jordie's bringing a girl, so it's like it's a double date or something. </p><p>Shit that maybe he shouldn't read into, because Jamie's a nice dude doing nice dude things, but.. he totally does anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a straight line down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noxnoctisanima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxnoctisanima/gifts).



> Thanks to Liz and Tori for reading through this for me and reassuring me more times than was probably fun for them (and to Tori for changing all of my parentheses to dashes, which makes way more sense.)

At first it's really small things that Tyler notices.

The way Jamie smiles at him, like, all the time, immediately after they meet. Or how he invites Tyler to dinner when he knows Jordie's bringing a girl, so it's like it's a double date or something.

Shit that maybe he shouldn't read into, because Jamie's a nice dude doing nice dude things, but.. he totally does anyway. Because Jamie's smile is really something and sometimes he thinks he needs Jamie's quiet personality to balance his own out.

But then of course it manages to get screwed up somehow, because _of course_ it does.

Or at least, it seems that way at the start.

\-----

The first time he meets Jamie, Tyler's a little high on life and hockey at the All-Star draft. They end up sitting together in the green room, waiting for their names to be called. Tyler's not going to lie – at first, he doesn't pay much attention to Jamie. He's distracted by his teammates and some of the guys with... larger than life personalities, so to speak. Jamie's a big dude – even slouched over on the couch in an ill-fitting suit, Tyler can see that. But he's quieter than most of the guys and despite his size, kind of blends in.

(What a fucking joke that assumption was, Tyler will realize not too much later when he's traded Boston gold for Dallas green. Jamie Benn does _anything_ but blend in.)

Point of the matter is, the first time they meet, Tyler is loving life and hockey and gives very little thought to the forward from Dallas.

\-----

The second time they meet – as time goes by, Tyler will think of this as the real first time they met, because _jesus was he wrong_ – Tyler is hating life and is fairly sure his hockey career is just going to fizzle out before it even gets started. But this time, he's paying a hell of a lot of attention to Jamie, if only because Jamie is kind of making it impossible not to.

He's not overbearing in person – he just texts Tyler the first day he gets to Dallas, but that's a full three days before Tyler is ready to talk to anyone, so it's kind of a moot point. He lets Tyler know he's available to show him around, help him find a place if he doesn't have anyone doing that for him already. Tyler doesn't even see him until he almost runs right into him at the rink, Tyler there to shake some hands and make nice, and Jamie there to... completely derail Tyler's life, a-fucking-pparently.

His memories of Jamie on the ice at the All-Star game are hazy at best, and that's what Tyler blames for the fact that apparently Lindy has been calling his name for a full minute, and he's been... oggling his new linemate as he takes shots on goal from center ice.

Lindy watches him for a minute, eyes darting between Tyler and Jamie before calling Jamie over to the boards.

Jamie's pulling off his gloves and running a hand through his hair as he skates over, and Tyler sticks out a hand when he gets close.

“Hey man, Tyler Seguin.”

Jamie gives him a lopsided smile as they shake. “Jamie. Uh, Benn. We've met, actually.”

Tyler glances away, feeling like a dick. “All-Star game. I know. Just... formalities and whatnot, gotta shake the new liney's hand, right?”

Jamie nods, makes his way over the boards, and the three of them make their way back to the locker-room.

Tyler's not one for silence if he can avoid it, and he gestures to Jamie as they walk. “You've got a killer shot, dude. Sick accuracy. What's your shootout percentage?”

Jamie fucking _blushes_ , and it's the first time since he got the call from his agent that Tyler hasn't been completely unsure about hockey any longer. Maybe he's even excited again. Maybe.

\------

He has reason to be, it seems. On the ice, he and Jamie are fucking in synch, and it's pretty amazing being on the top line, he's not even going to front about that. They win games against opponents that Tyler knows Dallas lost against spectacularly last year.

Off the ice, Tyler is settling in better than he thought as well, and like, 50% of that is because of the Benn brothers. (And okay, Marshall finally joining him in Dallas is the other 50%, who is he kidding.) He accepted an offer for dinner at their apartment his second week there, and somehow that turned into like, five dinners in a row, and now apparently he's moving in upstairs in their building. Jamie and Jordie help him heft boxes around after the movers drop them unceremoniously in the living room. And then they drink some beers on Tyler's new couch and Marshall rests his head on Jamie's knee, and that's just kind of how it goes for awhile, the three of them being surprisingly chill and Tyler super-surprisingly _not_ being bored out of his mind?

Except then. Then Jordie meets Jessica and the three of them drinking beers on the couch turns into Jamie and Tyler drinking beer on the couch. And riding solo to dinner. And carpooling solo to the rink when Jordie sleeps over at Jess's.

They're in each other's fucking pockets, which is not ever an expression Tyler thought he would use with anyone but Brownie. But he finds he really likes it.

\-----

They're having one such evening – beer, couch, etc. - when the topic of dating somehow comes up. (Tyler will forever blame it on Jamie admitting to him that he watches the Bachelor like, really intensely.)

“Do you have a Jess?” He asks, tipping his beer bottle in Jamie's direction.

“Huh?” Jamie glances over at Tyler like he has no idea what he's talking about. And sometimes Tyler's brain works in circles and he doesn’t realize people can't follow his internal train of thought, but come on.

“A Jess. A girlfriend. Like Jordie.”

Jamie's eyes go wide and he takes a swig of beer, and Tyler makes a point to not watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, but whatever, he's only human.

“Don't you think you'd know if I was dating someone? I spend all my free time with you, Segs.”

Tyler shrugs, waves his hand as if to say _I don't know your life, dude_ , but he realizes that isn't really true at all.

He _knows_ Jamie.

“I mean, I may as well be dating YOU, with how much I don't see other people,” Jamie adds, swigging his beer. “Except, you know... without the sex,” he adds, and Tyler doesn't miss the way his eyes linger on Tyler's face, cheeks reddening.

Tyler grins around the mouth of his bottle. “Hey, baby, the sex is always negotiable.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, so Jamie gets he's joking, but when Jamie shoves at his shoulder and lets his hand linger, he has to wonder: _Is he joking_ _?_ Because most of him – all of him – right now would be perfectly fine with this night ending in Jamie's bed. Or on Jamie's couch. Or some random wall somewhere between the two.

_And... shit._

\----

So that's how it started. And that's how it stays, week in and week out, until he and Jamie have been skating on the same line for months and suddenly it’s the Olympics and Jamie's going and Tyler's... not.

They have an awkward non-conversation about it, which basically boils down to Jamie blushing for five minutes straight while Tyler congratulates him, and then Tyler beaming for an hour straight when Jamie assures him they’ll represent Canada together in four years.

Tyler's watching from a much more tropical climate when Jamie scores the fucking game-winning-goal. And yeah, all the guys he's watching the game with are jazzed as hell, but Tyler's pretty sure he embarrasses the crap out of himself with how loudly he cheers... and then just kind of stares. For several minutes. For any glimpses of Jamie he can spot. Sometimes-shy, always-humble, getting-better-with-the-media-everyday Jamie Benn is Tyler's favorite person ever, _shit_ , which is exactly what he yells at Jamie's pixelated face much later that night when he Skypes him from a hotel thousands of miles away.

“Benny! What the actual _fuck_ , I mean I'm not surprised, but like... _shit, man_. You're Crosby-levels of loved in Canada right now, you know?”

Jamie blushes, because _of course_ , compliments are fucking hard to take even when you're obviously awesome as shit. “Thanks, man. So... uh, you watched?”

Tyler literally bursts out laughing. Like there was any question. A) It's the fucking Olympics, and B) it's fucking Jamie. “Nah, dude. I was busy, but some of the guys gave me the play-by-play. Apparently you did kind of okay.”

Jamie's face lights up, and Tyler kind of dies.

They talk for a few minutes longer, but it's loud in the background, and Tyler basically insists Jamie get off the computer and go celebrate with the guys, or go hug his parents again, or whatever.

Tyler goes back to celebrating with his boys, because like, unspoken Captain's orders, or something. His phone buzzes a couple hours later when he's alone on the beach. It's the same international number Jamie had skyped him from earlier; he does the math in his head – he's not sure he's ever talked to Jamie this late at night. Or early in the morning.

_Never celebrated a game like this before. This what the playoffs r like?_

Tyler smiles. _Dunno man, never played in the olympics ;) let's compare stories when we're in the playoffs together, yeah?_

 _Fuck yes_ , is the reply he gets, almost immediately. And then: _wouldn't fucking b there w/o you man._

Tyler doesn't know if he means the Olympics or their prospective playoff run, but he just shakes his head. _What the fuck ever dude. U know ur the best._

Tyler's phone goes silent for long enough that he figures Jamie's probably passed out, and like, rightfully so. But then. Then.

_Wish you were here, seggy. Used to winning w you now._

Tyler scrubs his hand over his face. Drunk, openly affectionate Jamie is apparently a thing in a different time zone and over text, too.

_Me too man. I'm still your fave liney right? Crosby and Toews didn't spoil you?_

_Fave everything seggy. Even miss you talking in ur sleep thru the wall_

And okay, sometimes Tyler is too tired to go all the way up three flights of stairs to his own apartment. And sometimes their rooms adjoin in hotels, but he had no idea Jamie heard him talking in his sleep. Brownie totally recorded him one night, and it was all innocent talk, but yeeeah, it happens occasionally.

 _Sorry dude, i'll try to be quieter ;)_ he sends, just as his phone vibrates in his hand.

_Sometimes u wake me up and I wanna come climb on top of you and shut you up_

What the... is Tyler reading way too into that or is Jamie fucking Benn trying to sext him?

His phone vibrates again before he can respond. _or wake u up and get u louder, dunno whatd be better_

LOUDER, his brain screams. Always loud. Instead, he bites his lip and responds.

_jesus jamie, either one. but how would u shut me up?_

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, glad the beach is deserted and the guys are inside somewhere, because he’s sure he’s blushing like crazy.. and if he’s not now, Jamie’s reply fixes that real fast.

_my mouth. fuck ty, soemtimes you dont shut up and i just want to get my fucking tongue in ur mouth jesus_

For lack of any coherent thought, Tyler just responds, _fuck… maybe you should._

He runs a hand down his flushed chest and waits. And waits.

And it’s possible Jamie has finally passed out. Or he’s panicking and their friendship is officially ruined and they’ve probably lost their hockey chemistry too, and now Tyler is definitely panicking and wishing he’d drunk himself into some celebratory stupor so he could have passed out half an hour ago.

He pockets his phone twenty minutes later and ambles back up to the house. Maybe he should go find a cliff to walk off.

\-----

So he obviously doesn’t walk off a cliff. He also doesn’t talk to Jamie again until after he’s officially an Olympic gold medalist, which _holy shit._ Jamie texts him when he’s home and settled in, and it’s kind of dumb how quickly Tyler shows up at his door.

He tackles Jamie in a hug before the door is barely open. “Congratulations, man! Fucking Olympic gold medalist, jesus.”

He can feel Jamie grinning, head ducked down into the dip of his neck. He pulls back, keeps Jamie at arm’s length, hands on his shoulders. “Now, show me the medal.”

Jamie pulls him into another quick hug, laughing into his hair, and then he’s off, down the hall. It takes Tyler a second to shake himself alert, but he follows Jamie.

The medal is amazing, clearly. But Jamie’s _face_ is even better as Tyler makes him recount the play-by-play that led to his GWG and then tell him every single thing he can remember about the gold medal game.

He's lit up from the inside-out and Tyler is so into it.

Jordie, who had been hanging on Jamie's every word, even though Tyler's sure he'd heard the story already, just grins right along with them. They probably all look like idiots.

"Ok Seggy, Olympian Benn, I'm headed off. The lady awaits," Jordie says awhile later, and Tyler definitely doesn't blame him. It's kind of overwhelming, how fucking happy Jamie is.

Jamie cuffs his brother on the back of the head as he walks by, but then stays sprawled on the couch next to Tyler. They fall into silence as the door clicks closed.

"Dude." Jamie breaks the silence and turns his head toward Tyler and they both collapse into tired, overwhelmed giggles.

“ _Dude_ ,” Tyler mimics back to him, reaching out a hand to ruffle Jamie’s hair, just to be a pain in the ass. Jamie surprises him by leaning into it, laughter dying down. Tyler is super aware that his hand is just kind of… carding through Jamie’s hair, what the fuck, and neither of them are making a move to stop it.

“I… I missed you, man,” Tyler says, tugging once at the hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, his hand lingering there.

Jamie smiles, and is _totally about to say something_ when Jordie reappears in the living room.

“So, I consider myself the smarter Benn, but I totally forgot my wallet so -” Jordie’s voice breaks them out of their staring contest. “-- _sooo_ , I’m interrupting something, and I’m just going to pretend I never walked back in here.”

Jordie almost moon-walks out of the room and Jamie returns to his original position on the couch. Tyler lets his hand drop back to his side, sighing.

“You’re probably exhausted. I should go,” Tyler stands, stretching his arms above his head. He doesn’t miss how Jamie tracks his movement as he stands too.

Jamie tries - and fails - to stifle a yawn as he follows Tyler to the door.

Tyler has one foot out the door when Jamie puts a hand on his upper-arm.

“Hey, um,” Jamie starts, cheeks reddening. His arm is on fire where Jamie is touching him, “hey, have dinner with me. Tomorrow.”

Tyler grins. “Sure, man. Text me the when and where.”

Halfway up the stairs, it occurs to him that they’ve never actually pre-planned dinner. It’s just always kind of happened.

\----

Dinner goes how it always does with Jamie - fun, good food, good time. (Okay, maybe Tyler spends extra time getting ready, but it’s not like it’s a crime to want to look nice when you’re going out in public.) When they make it back to their building, Tyler gets off the elevator on Jamie’s floor, not even giving it a second thought.

Jamie has his key in the door, one hand fiddling with the collar of his dress shirt. Tyler’s struck - not for the first time tonight - by how nice he looks, and says as much.

Jamie kind of laughs it off as he leads him inside. “Thanks, man. You always look nice.”

Tyler probably fucking beams, he doesn’t even know what his face is doing. It’s obviously untrue - Jamie has seen him look truly disgusting both during and after games - but the sentiment is enough that Tyler finally just bites the bullet and asks the question that’s been on his mind all night.

“Was this a date, dude?” He ducks his head as the words come out, one hand brushing over the back of his neck, sure his face is reddening.

Jamie turns from where he’s shucking his keys and wallet and just kind of stares. “It… it was a dinner. To celebrate.” But he sounds unsure, and that’s not what Tyler was looking for.

“But… just the two of us? What about the team, or Jordie?”

Jamie fidgets with his collar again, unbuttoning the few top buttons that were actually buttoned, but doesn’t say anything.

“You dressed up, Jamie. You tried to fucking pay for my meal. Those text messages the other night…”

“I was drunk when I sent those, I didn’t mean to make you --” he starts, his voice quiet.

“I know that, dude. I _liked_ them. I’m not complaining. I’d like _more_ of them, or for us to actually --”

“To actually what?”

“To actually - _this_ ,” Tyler says, hands closing over Jamie’s still fidgety ones on his collar and lips closing over Jamie’s quiet gasp.

Tyler kisses him like he’s wanted to for months - earnestly, deeply, like he might not get another chance.

And when Jamie pulls back and meets his eyes, breathing heavy, he doesn’t think he will get another chance.

“Tyler - I,” Jamie starts, scrubbing a hand down his face, and that’s when Tyler sees it - the bags under his eyes, how the jet lag is still clearly getting to him.

“I’m sorry. I - shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking. You’re still exhausted man, you should get some sleep.” He waits a moment, thinking _maybe, maybe please_ Jamie will say something, stop him, kiss him - but Jamie just nods, looking just like he does when they lose games.

“Seggy -” Tyler turns with his hand on the door, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “Are we good?”

“The best,” he says, smiling slightly. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

\-----

It's almost April, and _almost_ every aspect of his life is kind of fucking awesome. He's fucking top ten in the league in points, his teammates are solid, fun guys, and most of the guys – even the older ones – are looking to him as a leader in the room. Tyler is fucking floored by it, still, sometimes.

And then there's Jamie. Jamie Benn is both the best and the worst part of his day. He's easily Tyler's best friend in Dallas, which, well, is the best and the worst part thing.

Because it's amazing to be playoff bound again. And being playoff bound with _Jamie_... Tyler wouldn't change a single thing about having his name on the Cup before he was 21 years old, but the opportunity to even compete for one with Jamie, with Jordie, with this _team_ , it's every-fucking-thing Tyler always imagined hockey was supposed to be.

But being playoff bound while pining after your BFF, who also happens to be your linemate and your fucking captain? That's something that could only happen to Tyler Seguin. Because why not complicate things when things are great otherwise?

After their dinner - their _kiss_ , which Tyler tries to not think about every five seconds anymore - things had been… not awkward, but not normal. They still play together amazingly, and Tyler couldn’t be happier about that, but off the ice…

Off the ice it’s almost as though they never kissed, but Tyler can’t unhear the tiny gasp that Jamie had let out when Tyler kissed him, so clearly it happened. They still have dinner together, but when it’s just the two of them now, unlike before, the silence is deafening. It’s not companionable; it’s charged, heavy, and Tyler can’t fucking stand it.

Tyler _knows_ Jamie feels it too. Jamie’s never the loudest guy in a room, but he’s quieter than he’s ever been around Tyler. He’s quieter, but if anything, he touches Tyler more than he ever did before. Or maybe Tyler is just super-attuned to it now, craves it. It makes zero sense.

When they play video games, they sit squished together on the huge sectional couch. On the bench, Jamie routinely puts a hand on Tyler’s knee to hoist himself up. They rarely watch movies alone anymore, and Tyler’s not sure if that’s because they both would pass out ten minutes in just from sheer pre-playoffs exhaustion, or if it’s Jamie’s way of creating some sort of boundary. Tyler had fallen asleep on Jamie’s shoulder during a movie a couple weeks after their kiss, and woken to Jamie’s eyes on him and his hand on Tyler’s neck, his thumb stroking slowly up and down. Tyler was groggy, but he knows what Jamie’s face looks like when he’s determined, when he wants something - he sees it every night on the ice. (He’s played the moment over and over again in his mind since then, and he’s always come back to the same conclusion - maybe that was the face Jamie makes when he wants something, but he can’t - or won’t? - let himself have it.)

Jamie’s face is on a constant loop in Tyler’s mind - the way he’d looked after they’d kissed, the way he’d looked at Tyler in the dark the other week - but it quickly gets pushed to the back when the playoffs start.

They go down two games at the start, and Jamie barely looks at him. Tyler’s not sure he could handle it if he did, honestly.

But then they shut out Anaheim in game three, and Jamie hugs him harder than he ever has. They all sit crammed together at a huge table in the back of a favorite local bar, celebrating. Jamie starts to get up to get the next round, bracing his hand on Tyler’s knee, when Jordie stops him.

“I got it, bro,” he says, and Tyler hears him laughing as he walks off, a wallet that looks suspiciously like Jamie’s in his hand.

And Jamie’s hand is still on his knee. It’s warm, and huge, and Tyler’s just this side of tipsy. He means to ask him to move it, or to move it himself, but he can’t seem to make that happen. He doesn’t want his hand there if it doesn’t mean anything, if it’s just because Tyler’s easy to touch and responsive.

\----

They win game four too, and a smaller group of them end up at the same bar. And Jamie’s hand ends up on Tyler’s thigh this time, but he’s high off hockey and he needs to stop at this beer, and somehow, it stays there through the cab ride home too, even in plain sight of Jordie.

Jordie gets off the elevator at their floor, and looks back at Jamie. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler sees him shake his head in Jordie’s direction. Jordie gives him a look, but lets the doors close between them.

It’s silent for the floors that separate their apartments, but Jamie puts his hand on Tyler’s back as he’s reaching for his keys at the door. He puts enough pressure that Tyler turns around to face him.

Jamie looks like he’s going to say something, but instead his mouth finds Tyler’s lips, a hand finds his cheek, and Tyler ends up with his back pressed against the doorknob.

He lets himself be kissed. It’s different - better maybe - than their first kiss, and Tyler sighs into it. Jamie’s lips find his neck and Tyler fucking _keens_. Jamie pulls back - to catch his breath, Tyler thinks - and stays there, one hand braced against the door, the other still stroking Tyler’s jaw.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hears Jamie whisper, sees his eyes dart away. “Ty, I’m sorry. I… we’re drunk… I can’t.”

Tyler sighs and puts a hand on Jamie’s chest, making him take a step back. As he does, Tyler can see the subtle outline of Jamie’s obviously hardening cock.

Tyler glances down. “You obviously _can_ ,” he snaps, exasperated.

“Shouldn’t. I _shouldn’t_ ,” he amends, and Tyler shakes his head.

“I don’t… I don’t fucking understand. I’m not imagining anymore that you want this. This -” he gestures between the two of them, at how close they’re still standing - “ _this_ was a pretty obvious sign.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything. Jamie _never fucking says anything_ , even when Tyler can see he wants to.

He sighs. “Ok, dude. Whatever. We are drunk, I guess. Go home and sleep it off.” Tyler’s over it. He’s 100% over it. He’s tired of wanting this, and all signs pointing to him maybe, finally getting it, for it to end like this.

Jamie nods. He turns and walks back toward the elevator. Tyler’s just about to close the door when he hears Jamie call him.

“Seggy,” he says, one foot in the elevator, his hand bracing the door, “we might actually fucking win this thing.”

Tyler gives a small smile and lets the door close.

Maybe his hockey luck will continue and they actually fucking will.

\----

They actually fucking don’t. They drop game five, and he and Jamie are actually avoiding each other at this point. And then they drop game six in OT, and Tyler’s barely through the handshake line before he’s pulling off his helmet and gear for the final time this season.

Jamie gives a good “great try, look how fucking far we came, couldn’t have imagined being here last year” speech to close out the night, but lets the guys stagger home without trying to get anyone to commiserate-drink.

So Tyler does that by himself. Alone, in his apartment. Don’t get him wrong, he’s fucking thrilled they came as far as they did. In July, when he heard where he was going, he didn’t imagine they’d make the playoffs. It wasn’t a lock like it was in Boston. So this was all amazing. But losing still fucking sucks.

And a day and a half later, when he still hasn’t heard from Jamie, he figures losing his best friend sucks even more.

He runs into him in the elevator the next morning, when he’s bringing Marshall back in from their morning walk.

They’re so busy talking about anything other than hockey or their recent lip-locking activities, and Jamie’s distracted by Marshall, that he doesn’t even realize Jamie never hit his floor until they’re all getting off the elevator together on Tyler’s floor.

Jamie follows him in, quiet, as he unhooks Marshall’s leash and tosses his rawhide for him to go gnaw on. He’s just standing in the hallway, blocking the kitchen entryway with his huge body. Tyler goes to sidestep him to get a glass of water, but Jamie’s hand finds his wrist.

“It was a date.”

Tyler’s face must show the “ _huh?_ ” he’s feeling, because Jamie smiles.

“After the Olympics. That dinner. You were right. It was a date. I was just… stupid.”

Tyler sighs. They’ve been through the wringer this last week. He’s tired, and maybe a little hungover, and still just really, really sad.

Tyler looks him up and down, because honestly he’ll take any excuse to, and smiles. “You are many things, Benn, but you aren’t stupid.”

“Scared. I was scared.”

“That sounds closer to true,” Tyler says, leaning back against the kitchen archway and crossing his arms.

“I wanted it to be a date. I wore a dress shirt, Seggy! A fucking dress shirt. But then you kissed me, and all I could think about was those stupid drunk texts I sent you, and how they could’ve messed up our friendship or our game, and how anything more could've ruined everything we'd worked for this year, and I couldn’t fucking handle that.”

“They didn’t, though. And nothing was ruined. And I told you I fucking liked them.”

“I get that, now.” Jamie reaches out and places his hand on Tyler’s elbow.

“And the other night? Mixed signals, much?”

Jamie sighs this time, stares at their feet. “I was drunk. But I was so damn happy. We made the fucking playoffs and got a shutout, and you’re such a big part of that for the team, and for me. I just fucking _wanted_ you,” he says, and then finally, finally looks Tyler in the eye. “I just fucking want you _all the time_ ,” he finishes.

“Jesus,” Tyler whispers, and it’s fucking over for him at that point. He gets a hand on Jamie’s chest and their lips meet, and Jamie’s hands end up on his waist. He’s got his back pressed against the kitchen archway still, and Jamie gets a hand under the hem of Tyler’s shirt and pushes up. His shirt ends up on the kitchen counter, and Jamie’s joins it moments later.

Jamie slots a thigh between Tyler’s legs and he grinds against it as they kiss, slow and heady, so unlike their first two kisses.

Jamie pulls back and Tyler has a moment of absolute dread. His face must show it, because Jamie kisses him quick again, and fucking _laughs_ into his mouth.

“Hey, don’t fucking laugh at me. Your track record gives me some cause for concern,” Tyler says, letting his hands land on Jamie’s ass and squeeze to punctuate the point.

“Sorry,” Jamie mumbles, and he does sound sorry, is the thing. “It won’t" - a kiss to Tyler’s lips again - "fucking" - he bites and drags Tyler’s bottom lip between his teeth - "happen" - he’s sucking on his bottom lip, _jesus_ \- "ever again" - he gets his tongue in Tyler’s mouth and his hands on Tyler’s fly, and _shit fuck Tyler hopes it never stops._ )

They’re not fucking leaving this kitchen.

They lose the rest of their clothes and Jamie ends up jerking them both off right there in the kitchen. Tyler has to brace his arms above his head on the archway to keep from losing his balance as he pants open mouthed kisses against Jamie’s shoulder when they’re both close.

Jamie’s lips find his ear and bites the lobe lightly. “I wanted this - _you_ \- for so fucking long,” he whispers, and Tyler groans, coming over Jamie’s hand. Jamie follows him over a couple strokes later, and ends up smearing his come-dirty hand on Tyler’s hip as they kiss through it.

“Jesus fuck, Jamie.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, mouth pillowed on Tyler’s bottom lip. His dirty hand slides up Tyler’s rib cage, and Tyler’s torso is basically wrecked at this point.

“If you wanted to take a post-sex-turns-into-sex-again shower, all you had to do was ask, Jamie.”

“Huh?” He’s distracted, his lips on Tyler’s neck again.

Tyler glances down between them. “My… everything is covered in… _everything_ ,” he says, laughing.

“Oh. We should probably wash that off,” he says, and fucking giggles. If Tyler wasn’t gone before, he has no hope now.

“Probably,” he smiles, grabbing Jamie’s hand and dragging him down the hall.

\-----

Epilogue

July rolls around quickly. Tyler’s still not entirely over the playoffs loss yet, if he’s being honest, but he’s so fucking happy in Dallas that it barely registers in his mind as a bad thing - it’s just a thing that happened that he didn’t think he’d even get a chance to experience in Dallas, and he’s grateful for it.

He’s fucking grateful for a lot of things, he thinks, as Jamie snuffles against his shoulder in his sleep. It’s the early morning hours of the 4th, and they’re flying out later that night to spend time with their respective families. (Jordie’s already hinted that their mom won’t shut up about Jamie bringing Tyler home this summer, so that’s probably a thing that’ll happen, and Tyler is perfectly fucking thrilled about it, actually.)

He dozes again and wakes a while later to Jamie’s mouth on his. He outright giggles into the kiss and smiles against Jamie’s lips.

“You were talking in your sleep again.”

“What this time?”

Jamie blushes.

“Oh, come on!” He’s been woken up by Jamie telling him he was talking in his sleep several times since the end of April, and somehow it always ended in them having sleepy middle of the night sex.

“Just… something. Something like, “I love you, Benn.”

“Declaring my love for Jordie? Like that’s anything new.” Tyler smiles, his hand stroking over Jamie’s ear.

“Yeah, it probably was Jordie,” Jamie says, biting his lip.

“It was absolutely you, you jerk,” Tyler kisses him, grinning. “And I do, you know. Love you.”

Tyler says “I love you,” all the time. He said it before he actually loved Jamie, before he even knew he wanted them to be together. (The first time was probably hockey related, if he remembers correctly. “Fucking sweet deke man, I love you!” It’s just a thing that happened.)

“I know you do. I love you, too.”

 _That?_  That’s new though. Jamie’s not always as forthcoming as Tyler would like, even after a couple months and a few serious talks about the issue. Tyler totally knew Jamie loved him - those Bambi eyes hide nothing, you see - but this, this is nice.

Tyler cuddles against him before glancing over at the clock.

“Holy shit, dude. It’s the fourth.”

“Ty, I know this is Dallas, but we’re not American. We don’t have to celebrate Independence day.”

“No. July 4th. It’s been exactly a year since Boston traded me. Since I knew I was coming to Dallas.”

Jamie squeezes his hand. It’s still a tough subject sometimes. He fucking loves Dallas, and Jamie, and the team, but the way it happened, the mindset he had coming into it, still messes with his head occasionally.

“No, babe. I’m not sad. It ended up being a good thing. And that has a lot to do with you. Do you remember when I came and met you, like, again, on the ice? With Lindy? And complimented your shot?”

Jamie nods, quiet.

“That was the first time I felt like, remotely okay about being in Dallas. _You_ did that. Or, I did that and you helped. I don’t know. But you. Just… you,” he finishes, smiling.

Jamie kisses him, smiling.

“It’s been a good year,” he says against Tyler’s lips.

“The fucking best,” Tyler corrects, smiling into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from I Wish You Would by Taylor Swift, because... apparently I listened to it a lot while writing this. 
> 
> Also, I spent a lot of time look at [this gif](http://33.media.tumblr.com/f1fd7591cc3fdeb60f4ca91b9df64ad3/tumblr_mm3chiMndJ1r41emlo1_500.gif) while writing this, because... do you need an actual reason?
> 
> I'm fromiftowhen on Tumblr as well, so if reading a lot of not-fic is your thing, add me!


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